Page 32 of Cursed with the Dragon Prince
“It was paranoia. Fear of something strange. I know that,” I say, but understanding never fixed the pain.
As the days pass, my clothes become ravaged, the skirts’ slits broken open to the waistband. It’s nice, in its way—I adore the rush of the wind, the sun kissing my skin. Allowing the sensations to heal me, I displace the belief that my skin is scandalous, my body cursed.
The fifth morning starts like the rest. Grounded by the steady beat of crashing waves, wrapped within Drakon’s arms, I am warm.
Today, we’ll practice my dragon form.
Yesterday, I shifted completely for the first time, embracing the dragon within me. She was easy to find, waiting for her opportunity to rise.
My dragon is beautiful, with scales of deep purple and dusty rose. With her long, graceful neck and spiny tail, she’s regal and awe inspiring.
Now this canyon feels small, lacking the space to spread my wings. Drakon wants to travel to another canyon, one he believes will be a safe place to practice. Soon I will be prepared for my swim in Wisp’s caldera.
I inhale deeply, nuzzling Drakon’s chest. He replies, tugging me closer, tangling his legs with mine.
We slowly stir, separating our limbs to stand, stumbling to our makeshift kitchen. We eat nuts and dried fruit, watching the sunrise, listening as the birds grow louder. Waiting, we glance at the still-silent speaking stone.
Our hands rest on the table, pinkies touching.
“Drakon?”
It isn’t Kaliyah. Eyes widening, body tensing, Drakon lunges, grasping the stone. “Where’s Kaliyah?”
Silence.
He tries again. “Who am I speaking to?”
“It’s Caydon,” they whisper.
“It is good to hear from you. I hope you are well.” Drakon frowns. “But where is Kaliyah?”
“She’s… unwell.” They sigh, and I lean closer. “We suspect Scorpia poisoned her again.”
“What?” Drakon growls.
“Scorpia has grown tired of waiting. She wants to force your return.”
Fury reddens Drakon’s eyes. “I never thought she would threaten Kaliyah.”
“None of us expected this,” Caydon agrees.
Drakon taps his fingers on the table, glancing at me. He’s asking for my input, my permission to proceed.
“I’m ready,” I whisper, and when it comes out hoarse, I clear my throat and continue. “Let’s go to the caldera. Today.”
The decision feels impulsive, but I don’t retract the words. For once, my body and mind agree; further delay and practice would be helpful, but it’s not necessary.
Drakon holds my gaze for a long second, deciding, and his muscles ripple as the weight of this decision swells through him.
I hold his stare, determination tightening my face.
“You are ready,” he agrees. “Today, we will visit the caldera.”
My stomach knots, pleased and terrified that my risky plan has his approval.
“I must go. Talk at Sunset.” Caydon rushes their words, then pauses, slowing to say, “And Reina, may Wisp guard your journey.” The connection dies.
Drakon’s eyes close briefly, his lips echoing the prayer.
